


First Response

by gwinne



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-27 19:55:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15032057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwinne/pseuds/gwinne
Summary: I had a really hard time believing that Scully wouldn't have taken a pregnancy test sometime before/during Requiem





	First Response

**Author's Note:**

> Mid-episode for Requiem, written prior to Season 8; first posted back in 2000

I bought it on a whim. 

Mulder and I had just gotten back from Oregon, an overly  
bumpy, early morning flight that left us both edgy and  
uneager to go back to work. I'd spent half of it in the  
cramped restroom fighting off nausea induced by the smell  
of somebody's Egg McMuffin and my partner's coffee. The  
other half was spent reassuring Mulder that I'd call my  
doctor as soon as we got home. Needless to say, neither  
one of us was in any hurry to write the report that would  
no doubt put Agent Chesty "Reduce Your Vision" Short over  
edge. We did, as predicted, waste some money: two rooms  
for three nights, though I'd slept twice in the warmth of  
Mulder's arms. We'd each taken a cab to the airport, so we  
split at baggage claim, agreeing to meet up in the  
afternoon to talk about the report, to have dinner, to do  
what, well, lovers do. 

Under the influence of the same kind of suggestibility that  
enables my partner to find a buried child in his sleep, I  
ended up in that aisle of the grocery store that provides  
the inevitable but infuriating juxtaposition of Stay Free  
maxipads, Nonoxynyl-9, and jar after jar of Gerber's baby  
food. I'd gone to the store for orange juice and English  
muffins and found myself standing in front of boxes of home  
pregnancy tests.

The thought had been gnawing at me for almost two days, but  
it was a leap as big as any of Mulder's, allowed only by  
association and irony. One minute I was holding Teresa  
Hoese's baby and the next Mulder was whispering about  
motherhood and then. . . It's not a particularly difficult  
conclusion for a doctor, or a woman having regularly  
scheduled nights of unprotected sex, to make. Dizziness,  
nausea, overwhelming fatigue. So I tossed the "First  
Response" box into the cart, hoping that mine was right and  
knowing I was setting myself up for disappointment. "I'm  
so sorry," the doctor had said.

* * *

When I got home, Mulder was already in my apartment, feet  
on the coffee table, guzzling yet another grande from  
Starbucks. I dropped the grocery bag on the table and ran  
into the bathroom to throw up. 

"Scully?"

I curled up on the white tile floor and waited for it to  
stop. It didn't, but the newfound intimacy of Mulder  
holding back my hair while I puked again made it somewhat  
easier to bear.

"I gotta lie down," I said when the world stopped spinning.

"It'll be okay." He helped me into bed again, just as he  
did two nights ago in Oregon, shoes off and clothes on.  
"You want some tea or something?"

"Just water."

I could hear Mulder in the kitchen, opening and closing  
cabinets, filling a glass with water, getting distracted by  
the brown bag on the table. I could hear him setting  
things on the counter, opening and closing the  
refrigerator. They were the sounds of a family on a quiet  
afternoon. They worked their way into my stomach and  
settled the thoughts that wouldn't stop churning.

"Scully?" He set the glass of water on the bedside table  
and sat in the crescent-shaped space at my waist. "Scully,  
what's this for?" He was holding up the First Response  
box.

"Crazy, huh?"

He tucked a strand of hair back behind my ears and kissed  
that spot he loves just under my left eye. "Not as crazy  
as most of our cases." He slid under the blanket and  
pulled me back against him, resting his chin on my  
shoulder. "You gonna take it?"

"Maybe. I guess for right now, I'd just like to believe."

"Me too, Scully, me too."

* * *

"I'm so sorry," Mulder said when I finally came out of the  
bathroom, red-eyed and trembling.

"It was a stupid idea. A fantasy. It's probably just the  
flu or maybe it's pseudocyesis. Even chemical pregnancies  
aren't unheard of. Maybe after everything I've been  
through. . ." What I wasn't saying hung over our heads  
like a broken umbrella.

He put his hand on the back of my neck and pulled me into  
his chest. "This isn't psychosomatic, Scully. And it  
isn't getting better. You need to see your doctor." He  
rubbed my back in slow, delicious circles.

I sighed into the gray cotton of his shirt. "Tomorrow."

* * *

"Mulder?" I could hear my voice crack with fatigue and  
disbelief when I saw him, standing at ease with Krycek and  
Marita and Skinner. They looked as comfortable in our  
basement office as Mulder did in my bed. I'd come to ask  
him to drive me home, to hold my hand when the doctor read  
my CAT scan like an inkblot and sent me home with amber-  
colored bottles of pills. I felt him shifting alliances as  
the ground shifted beneath my wavering feet. I needed him  
and he was as far away as he'd ever been.

"Give us a minute?" Mulder said to the others, ushering me  
into the office with a hand on my upper arm. Krycek's eyes  
swept over my body. I shivered.

"We'll be in the conference room," Skinner said.

"Agent Scully." Marita's eyes were smiling but her mouth  
didn't move. I wobbled a bit and Mulder's hand tightened  
on my arm.

"Mulder?" I leaned heavily against his desk.

"They have information about the crash in Oregon. They  
want to help."

"Oh." I stared at my fingernails with the same attention  
I'd give a slide under a microscope.

"Scully, what's going on?"

"I just wanted. . ." I couldn't bring myself to look at  
him, my partner, my lover, my only love.

"What?" His whole body was impatient, clenching and  
unclenching his fists, tightening his jaw. I felt a chasm  
open beneath us, pulling him down, down.

"Never mind. It can wait." I took a deep breath. "It can  
wait."

He kissed me the way Ahab used to kiss Mom when he got home  
from work. Then he walked out the door. I opened my mouth  
to ask him to stay but no sound came out.

* * *

"Well, we've got your test results back." I'd skipped the  
appointment with my oncologist to look at abductees'  
medical records and wound up in the emergency room,  
courtesy of the guys' Volkswagon van.

I exhaled a breath I didn't know I was holding, slowly,  
slowly.

"The dizziness is probably caused by extremely low blood  
pressure, exacerbated by anemia, so we'll get you started  
on iron pills right away. Blood sugar was also low; you're  
going to need to stop skipping meals. Otherwise, you  
should be feeling better in a few weeks, after the first  
trimester."

"Excuse me?" 

"Oh, I'm sorry," she chuckled, "let me back up.  
Congratulations, Dr. Scully, you're pregnant."

"But how? I mean, I can't." 

"No doubt about it. We ran the test twice since you told  
the admitting nurse you couldn't be pregnant." The doctor  
kept talking, saying words like prenatal vitamins and high  
risk OB, but all I could think of was Mulder, spooned up  
behind me with his hand on my belly. "I have you scheduled  
for a transvaginal ultrasound to make sure everything's ok  
and to check gestational age. The baby's father is  
welcome; would you like us to call him?"

"No, thanks." I couldn't stop smiling. "I'd like to tell  
him myself."

When the doctor closed the door behind her, I took a deep  
breath and grabbed my cell phone off the bedside table.  
Only after I hit speed dial #1 did I remember that Mulder  
was unreachable, probably circling over the plausible state  
of Oregon. "It's me," I said, when his voice mail picked  
up. "You're not going to believe this."


End file.
